


network connectivity problems

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 'lay all your love on me' by ABBA, Fluff, Local Government, M/M, Parks and Rec AU, Shenanigans, Slow Burn, Snake Juice, dating profile creation montage, gratuitous celine dion references, impulsive weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: It’s like that time he fell in love with a Dairy Queen employee that he’d only known for a couple of hours, only to find out that dude wore his uniformall the time.And sure, that guy was married, but still, it was the uniform that really bothered him.





	1. Pt. I: JT and Josty’s Fancy Party

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/pseuds/Stromesquad) in the [wesmashing](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesmashing) collection. 



> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> thanks to the avsfam mods for making this challenge happen, and to riley and dean and rachel for beta reading!! also thanks to ali for the greatest prompt ever. 
> 
> parks and rec is one of my favorite shows ever. i wrote a NINE PAGE ESSAY when it ended. no one asked me to! i just did! so needless to say, this was a labor of love. i adapted episodes from the end of season 3, including transcribed dialogue, but made some changes to give it that colorado avalanche twist. i totally shoehorned some gags in there, and i refuse to apologize for it, and that's that on that, alright? 
> 
> the casting choices in here matter a lot. to me. for personal reasons. title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LinpRhB4aWU)
> 
> also, mat barzal and dante fabbro appear, because i say so.

Tyson loves his coworkers, he really does. 

Seriously, ask any of them— he goes above and beyond to make sure they  _ know  _ that he loves them, in the form of gifts, pep talks, inspirational emails, and lavish compliments. He loves Nate’s begrudging affection, and EJ’s adorable toothless smile and consistently sound advice, and Mikko’s almost alarmingly persistent good attitude. He even loves Gabe, now that he knows there’s more to him than a haunted past as a former teen mayor who was elected mostly because he had nice hair. 

And he really loves Josty and Comph, thinks they’re great kids, even if Josty is a dirty rotten name-stealer and Comph couldn’t be paid to laugh at Tyson’s jokes. The important thing is that he laughs at Josty’s, and also just looks at Josty like he hung the moon in general. The other important thing is that Josty looks at him the exact same way. 

The most important thing is that they’re actually dating each other, as of a few weeks ago. 

Tyson is. So fucking happy for them, he really is. So he tells everyone to go to their dinner party, even if they’re hosting it at Josty’s friend’s house because they don’t have a place to live yet, and even if they’re asking everyone to provide all the materials for the ‘dinner’ half of this dinner party, and also most of the materials for the ‘party’ half.

“Hey,” he says, when he sees Gabe in the hallway, invitation in hand. “Are you going tonight?” 

“Yep, and I’m apparently bringing—” Gabe looks down at the card. “A television, and an XBox, and any hot Swedish friends I have who are good at video games. Or, ‘Swedish’ is in parentheses, so, I guess just hot friends, Swedish optional?” 

“I don’t even get to bring a guest, and I’m Comphy’s boss,” Tyson says. 

“Well, maybe they just respect my authority more,” Gabe says. “Or maybe they think my friends are hotter.” 

“Screw you, my friends are hot,” Tyson protests, and Gabe is definitely trying not to smirk right now, which would offend Tyson a little more if it wasn’t, like, a genuine, amused kind of smirk. 

“I’m mostly surprised they didn’t also ask me to bring games for the XBox,” Gabe says, and then he bites his lip. “Hey, I, uh— had a question for you.” 

Tyson blinks, surprised, because he’d sort of expected Gabe to keep going with the flirty banter thing they had going, and he’s not used to being caught off-guard by him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Gabe says, and then he shifts on his feet and takes a smallish deep breath, like he’s trying to psych himself up without Tyson noticing. Naturally, Tyson notices anyway. “So, my boss wants me to go back to Denver soon, but then this morning, Mikko offered me a job working for him.” 

“Oh,” Tyson says, and, for whatever reason, his mind starts to replace his thoughts with white noise. “So you’d… stay here?” 

“If I took it, yeah,” Gabe says. “I mean, I don’t know. Do you think I should?” 

Which is probably a question Tyson should be able to answer, except he’s not sure how he can right at this moment, considering his brain isn’t even letting him process that information. “Well— I mean, do you want to?” 

“I’m not sure,” Gabe says, politely ignoring the fact that Tyson’s inexplicably and suddenly useless. “I haven’t really lived anywhere for more than a few months since I left Sweden, pretty much, so it might be nice to settle down, but— I mean, you know. It’s a big change.” He shrugs. “What do you think?” 

“I— well, obviously this is, like, the best city in Colorado. Probably America. Possibly the world.” 

“Obviously,” Gabe says, doing his earnest-smirk again. 

“On the other hand, you have put in a lot of time as an auditor,” Tyson says, really hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

The earnest-smirk—which, thinking back, was actually just a smile—fades, and Tyson immediately regrets saying anything at all on the matter, and possibly everything he’s ever done. 

“So, you think I should say no to Mikko, and go back to Denver?” 

Tyson just stares blankly at Gabe’s face, not really able to get a good read on what his expression is doing, besides the fact that he looks guarded. He’s also still very beautiful, and Tyson’s mouth is dry, and, like—

The dilemma is, y’know. Obvious. Tyson likes Gabe, Tyson likes this city, Tyson clearly would prefer Gabe choose to stay in this city. And Tyson’s also a good fucking friend, so he doesn’t want to give Gabe shitty advice based on a very biased opinion, but he’s so very biased, and really doesn’t know how to communicate that without breaking the vibe they’ve had going lately. Tyson likes their vibe, okay? It’s a good vibe, an easy vibe, a vibe that makes Tyson feel good about himself and his life. Tyson doesn’t have many things like that. He’s pretty fucking reluctant to give this one up. 

“Y’know, it’s a tough call,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth. “You know what you should do? Make a pros and cons list. That always works well for me.” 

If Tyson’s not mistaken, Gabe looks a little disappointed at that, but Tyson is often mistaken, so who the fuck knows, really. 

“Maybe I’ll do that, then,” Gabe says. “Alright. Uh, thanks.” 

Tyson sticks out his hand, and his arm immediately feels stiff. “No problem,” he says, shaking Gabe’s hand. “It was nice talking to you, uh, sir.” 

“Good stuff,” Gabe says, and then he gives Tyson a quick nod and leaves at what seems like the speed of light. 

Again, Tyson can’t be sure if he actually rushes off in the opposite direction. Time’s been moving at a weird pace for the last few minutes. 

…… 

It’s really the smartest possible choice, ignoring the whole thing and pretending it never happened. 

Tyson is thankful sometimes that he has the reputation he does— when you’re always embarrassing yourself at least a little, people are less likely to think anything’s strange just because you’re tripping over your own feet a bit more than usual. Sure, a few more papers fly off his desk than usual, and he spends about 75% of his day with his foot in his mouth, as opposed to his usual 60%, but it’s not that conspicuous an increase. It could be due to any number of non-Gabe factors, probably. There are definitely things Tyson could be worrying about that don’t involve Gabe Landeskog at all. 

On the inside— sure. Tyson  _ feels  _ super fucking weird. But if no one notices, it doesn’t have to count, so he throws himself into JT and Josty’s thing, stays on top of making sure everyone brings the thing they were asked to bring—or, in most cases, a reasonable approximation—and making sure everyone has someone to talk to once the party’s in full swing. It’s a weird group of people, and a lot larger than Tyson had expected, but it seems like everyone’s wrapped up in conversation enough. 

And Gabe’s there, too, laughing along with everyone else. Tyson’s not sure if he brought any hot Swedish friends, but he hasn’t seen anyone here who’s Gabe levels of hot, so he’s assuming not. He doesn’t really know who Gabe’s non-work friends are, anyway; they exist, and he knows this from staring at Gabe’s Facebook profile one too many times, but he doesn’t think any of them are local. 

So, he says hi to Gabe, and hi to everyone else, and prevents Nate from getting into an argument with Mikko over whether or not it’s appropriate to bring an ice cream cake when he’s been asked to bring ice cream by pointing out that at least no one brought frozen yogurt, and— 

It’s fine, really. Tyson’s pretty good at putting off his own emotional bullshit by being helpful. It’s a point of pride with him.

“Josty, I think you maybe should put some more food out,” Tyson says, wandering into the kitchen to continue to put off said bullshit.

Josty, despite the fact that he’s wearing oven mitts, gives him a thumbs up. “Totally agree. Just firing up the Bagel Bites now.”

Tyson nods, approving, and he’s about to offer to help when JT walks in, hands stuffed in the pockets of a gray hoodie that’s covering a shirt that Tyson’s pretty sure he hadn’t been wearing when he’d walked in earlier. This one might even be new, a white polka-dot button-up that’s relatively unwrinkled and completely stain-free.

“Hey,” JT says, opening the sweatshirt up a little to show off the shirt more.

“Oh, my God.” Josty says, immediately covering his eyes with the thing in his hands, which happens to be the tray of uncooked Bagel Bites, which immediately fall to the floor. He does it so fast that Tyson’s pretty sure the exact same thing would have happened had the tray been hot out of the oven. 

It’s… weird. 

Even for Josty, who’s already pretty fucking weird.

JT seems unphased. “What do you think?” 

“Dude, you're not supposed to let me see you.”

“No, come on, you have to look, this is important. You have to tell me if I look good,” JT says, a hint of urgency in his voice, which is even weirder.

Josty lowers the tray from in front of his face and looks JT up and down with an expression on his face that makes Tyson legitimately worried that—among other things—Josty’s gonna jump him right then and there. 

He clears his throat. “Hey, guys, what's going on?”

JT and Josty look at each other, then at Tyson, and then JT walks over to Josty and puts an arm around his waist. Josty leans into the touch, natural as anything. 

“Uh, it's supposed to be a big surprise, but tonight—” A truly enormous grin splits across Josty’s face, so big that Tyson can feel the  _ oh no  _ settle in his gut before he even finishes the sentence. “—me and Comphy are gonna get married.” 

Tyson stares at them in disbelief, going between Josty’s unabashed joy and JT’s shy, buzzing excitement. 

He hears the words, knows what that sentence means, but— 

What. 

“To each other,” Josty clarifies, as if that was the part Tyson was stuck on.

“I— is someone pregnant? Are you pregnant?” Tyson asks. He’s pretty sure that’s impossible, but he figures he might as well cover all his bases. 

“Yes,” JT deadpans.

Josty looks at him, a little shocked. “Yes?” 

“No,” JT says, rolling his eyes and looking grossly fond. 

Tyson just looks on in horror. “Are you sick? Are you terminal? Is it like that movie,  _ A Walk to Remember?” _

“Yes.”

“What?” 

“No, god.” JT laughs this time, and Josty laughs too, but all Tyson can do is continue to stare.

“Oh, god, why are you doing this? Why is this…  _ great _ thing happening?” He knows he should be happy for them. They’re  _ happy.  _ It’s just— they’re getting  _ married. _ They’re getting married  _ tonight.   _

“Well, I mean, it's actually a really funny story,” Josty says, grinning proudly. “We were hanging out, and suddenly, I was like, ‘What if we got married tomorrow?’ And he was like—” He points to JT, who looks down at his feet, smiles, and shrugs. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says. 

“And he was like, ‘yeah, sure’,” Tyson echoes. “That is a great story, but— but you guys haven't been together very long, and you have no place to live.”

“We've been together long enough, and we'll find a place to live,” JT says easily.

“Yeah,” Josty agrees, turning to face JT. “Like, a house, or, like, a condo, or something.” 

“Probably a condo,” JT says, and he does this weird thing where he rubs his nose against Josty’s, which is the cutest fucking thing in the world, but doesn’t change the fact that this whole idea is a huge mistake.

“You can't just get a condo,” Tyson says weakly.  

“No, you're right,” Josty says, nodding seriously, but still not looking away from JT’s face. “House.” 

JT—who’s supposed to be the reasonable one—doesn’t even wave him off, just leans in and kisses him, and after that they’re making out, which means there’s pretty much no chance of them hearing another word out of Tyson’s mouth. 

Which is bad, because this is  _ bad.  _

Like, absolutely, 100%, the worst idea Tyson’s ever heard in his life. Which is really saying something, because Tyson works in  _ local government.  _ He hosts open forums where citizens can voice any complaints they may have about the city, and propose their own solutions. Bad ideas are his livelihood, and none of them can even compare, because these two toddlers should absolutely  _ not _ be allowed to  _ get married  _ about fifteen minutes into their relationship.

He walks out of the kitchen, into the bathroom, and pulls out his phone. “Siri, how do I stop a wedding?” 

_ “Okay, I found this on the web for How To Stop Sweating,”  _ Siri says back, which is somehow even less helpful than Tyson had expected. 

…… 

Here’s the thing: relationships are like scuba diving, right? If you come up too fast, you get the bends, and Tyson knows this because he once went scuba diving with a guy and told him he loved him underwater, and the guy shot up too fast and got the bends. 

Like, Tyson loves JT and Josty, he really does. He  _ wants _ them to stay together. 

And that’s why he has to stop this fucking wedding. 

It’s like— it’s like that time he fell in love with a Dairy Queen employee that he’d only known for a couple of hours, only to find out that dude wore his uniform  _ all the time.  _ And sure, that guy was married, but still, it was the uniform that really bothered him. There’s just— there’s no way, absolutely  _ no  _ way that JT and Josty know each other well enough to be ready to get  _ married.  _ Sure, they’re friends and coworkers, but if being friends and coworkers was enough— 

Tyson doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought, distracted by a conversation happening a few feet away. 

“No, G, I don’t know how I’m going to die,” Gabe is saying, sounding mildly bored at first, except then a look of concern flashes across his face. “Wait, are you asking me or telling me?” 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Tyson says, interrupting what was probably going to be a very interesting conversation that would probably result in a traumatized Swede. 

“Yes, please,” Gabe says, looking a little shell-shocked, and he follows Tyson without much protest, which is fine by Tyson. 

“So,” Tyson says, once there’s a safe distance between Gabe and whatever weird maybe-vampire shit Girard’s trying to pull. “JT and Josty are about to get married.” 

Gabe blinks at him, then puts on this surprised expression that’s way too mild for Tyson’s taste. “Wow, my Brita filter is older than their relationship,” he says. “Wait a second, should I change my Brita filter?” 

“I don’t know, it depends on how often you use it, stay focused, okay?” Tyson says. “The point is, two idiots, who I love a lot, are about to fuck up their lives because they haven’t thought this thing through, and nobody else seems to be concerned about this.” He’s aware that he looks a little crazed, but he thinks it’s justified. Two human lives being destroyed is, like, pretty high stakes shit. 

Gabe’s face doesn’t really change. “I mean, it’s— it’s probably not the best idea, for sure.” 

“So you’ll help me stop it,” Tyson says. 

Gabe’s response is not immediate agreement, for some reason, just a hesitant, vaguely pained expression. “Well… they’re adults, technically—” 

“Technically,” Tyson says. “That’s a very important technically. Like, technically, I could just… shave your head, or something, but that doesn’t mean I should.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not legal,” Gabe says. 

“Okay, well— I could peer pressure you into doing it for charity, let’s say. That’s legal, right?” 

“Sure.” 

“But would you be okay with it?” 

“Uh,” Gabe says. “Probably not?” 

“Of  _ course  _ you wouldn’t be,” Tyson says. “Making you cut off all your hair would be, like, a  _ literal  _ crime against humanity.” 

“Okay, well, let’s say that I’m the one who decides to shave my head,” Gabe says. “And let’s say that no one’s coercing me into doing any of it. What do you do then?” 

“I try to talk you out of it,” Tyson says. 

“Really,” Gabe says, crossing his arms. “And you can’t see any reason why that might not be a good idea?” 

“Is this your way of telling me you’re thinking about shaving your head?” 

“It’s a metaphor, Tys,” Gabe says, which isn’t a no, but then again, Tyson’s pretty sure Gabe’s just trying to not let him deflect. Which,  _ rude,  _ but— whatever. 

“I mean, if I think you’re gonna do something you’ll regret, I’m gonna try and stop you,” Tyson says. “That’s what friends do, right?” 

“But if you knew I wouldn’t listen?” Gabe says. 

“Doesn’t matter, I’d still try.” 

“Why? You really think that I’ll have nothing else going for me if I don’t have my hair?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you can’t control other people’s lives,” Gabe says. “And if your friends are gonna fuck up their lives, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, then you’re just gonna have to let them.” 

“But I don’t want to see them get hurt,” Tyson says, because Gabe’s making an annoying amount of sense, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tyson doesn’t want something great to fall apart because two kids fell in love too fast. 

“Well, you’re gonna hurt them if you cause a scene and stop their wedding,” Gabe says. “And sometimes people you like get hurt even when you’re trying your best, and the only thing you can do is be there to try and help them feel better.” 

And, well. Tyson can’t really argue with that. 

As a horribly unfamiliar feeling—resignation—starts to sink into Tyson’s gut, Josty clinks his glass, and that’s what seals the deal for Tyson— he’s not going to be able to stop this, no matter how much he tries.   

“Attention, everybody. Mesdames and Missoirs,” Josty says, a huge grin on his face. He looks blissfully unaware of the fact that he’s about to ruin his life, and, for a moment, Tyson feels a sliver of what he must be feeling right now— he’s young, he’s in love with his best friend, and he’s so, so happy. It makes sense, that he doesn’t see how this could backfire— he probably can’t imagine anything backfiring, when it’s him and JT.

Josty continues, “If you would do me the obligation of having your… honor, uh, heretofore, in the room doth… right over there, um. Hence.”

He’s met with blank stares. 

“Big event, that room, fifteen minutes.” 

Everyone else, Gabe included, starts to make their way into the other room, but Tyson just stands there, not wanting to accept that this is really it, even though he knows it is.

…… 

It’s a sweet ceremony, is the thing.

“I guess I don’t really care about most things,” JT says, which isn’t the most promising start, except then he follows it up with, “but, uh, I really,  _ really  _ care about you. Like— y’know. Really. So, y’know. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. That cool?” 

“Yes,” Josty says, sounding more sincere than Tyson’s ever heard him. He looks out over the crowd, a little unsure, before he turns back to JT and whispers, loud enough to be heard, “Is it my turn?” 

JT just smiles and nods, and Tyson takes a moment to be thankful that at least he knows exactly what he’s getting into. 

“Comphy—” Josty clears his throat. “JT— you're, like, the most awesome person I have ever known, in my entire life, ever. I vow to protect you from danger, and I don't care if I have to fight an ultimate fighter, or a bear, or—” Josty points at Girard, “—or him, or your mom— I would take 'em down.” 

“Josty—” JT says, sounding a little amused.

“I’m serious, man. I'm getting mad right now even thinking about it, I'm telling you—”  

“It's okay,” JT says, his voice soothing. He reaches out and rubs Josty’s arm.

Josty takes a deep breath. “I just— I wanna spend the rest of my life, every minute, with you, and I'm the luckiest man in the _galaxy_.” 

They smile at each other for a second, then both turn to Colin and give him a nod, like,  _ we’re ready.  _

Colin nods back, and: “By the power vested in me by the State of Colorado, I now pronounce you partners for life.” 

Because JT and Josty are JT and Josty, they fist bump before they start making out like the stupidly in love kids they are, and then— 

Well. 

They’re married. 

…… 

Tyson finds Nate outside after the ceremony, which isn’t all that surprising— Nate’s got a pretty low threshold for how much youthful energy he can stand to be around past 9PM. Which is hilarious, because Nate’s younger than Tyson; he just also happens to be remarkably cranky.  

“Sup,” Tyson says. 

Nate gives him a nod. “I thought you’d be inside.” 

“I thought you’d be in bed,” Tyson shoots back. 

“Shut up,” Nate says, going for mildly annoyed, coming up mildly petulant. “I was checking with the sitter.” 

“You have a sitter?” Tyson asks. “Since when do you have kids?” 

Nate rolls his eyes. “A dogsitter, idiot.” 

“You got a dogsitter for one night?” 

“My neighbor’s kid likes hanging out with him, so if I’m gonna be out and need her to feed him anyway, she might as well stay,” Nate says, shrugging. “Why are you out here?”

“I was also gonna check in with my sitter.” 

“You don’t have any pets.”

“You don’t know that,” Tyson protests. “I could have a fish.” 

“Do you have a fish?” 

“No, but I could.”

“Tys.”

Tyson sighs. “Okay, so— Gabe got a job offer here.” 

“Okay,” Nate says. “That’s nice, then.”

“I mean— he hasn’t taken it,” Tyson says. He runs a hand through his hair. “And he asked me if I think he should, and I just—” He shrugs, helpless. “I dunno.” 

“What don’t you know?” 

“Pretty much anything,” Tyson says. “Like, of all the people he could’ve asked, why did he choose me?” 

“Probably because he values your opinion, or something,” Nate says. “Which is a questionable choice for sure, but.” 

Tyson decides to be the bigger person and not point out that Nate would probably have a sizable raccoon population on his hands if he didn’t also value Tyson’s opinion. “What am I supposed to tell him?” 

“Just be honest,” Nate says. 

“But I can’t,” Tyson says. 

“Why not?” 

“Because my honest opinion is biased as hell,” Tyson says. “I’m physically incapable of telling someone that they should leave this place.” 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that Gabe knows your opinion is biased,” Nate says. 

“Then why would he ask for it?” 

“Because it’s what he wants to hear?” Nate shrugs. “Or maybe he just wants to know that you want him to stay.”

“It’s not— that’s— I don’t want  _ him  _ to stay,” Tyson says. “I just… don’t think anyone should leave this place, ever.” 

Nate gives him a look. 

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe I want him to stay a little bit.”

“You know you’re allowed to like him, right?” 

“I don’t like him,” Tyson says. “I mean, I  _ like _ him, but I don’t— shut up,” he says, and he can feel his face turn red as Nate tries and fails to suppress a giggle. “This is rude. I thought you were helping me, man.” 

“I’m just trying to state facts here,” Nate says. “I’m objective.” 

“You’re a jerk,” Tyson says, crossing his arms and leaning back in the patio chair, and Nate pats him on the arm.

…… 

Later that night, Tyson sees Gabe, takes a deep breath, then walks over, casually nudges him. 

“Hey there,” Gabe says. “Thought you left.” 

“Nah, I was just outside,” Tyson says. 

Gabe nods. “Needed some room to breathe?” 

“Something like that,” Tyson says. “Hey, listen, you— you should take the job.” 

Gabe’s face is carefully blank as he looks at Tyson for a beat, during which Tyson has a surprisingly hard time breathing. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” Tyson swallows. “It's a great city here, you know? And there are great people, and you've made a lot of friends, and— and what are you gonna do? You gonna go back to your old job and hack up people's budgets?” He shakes his head, offers Gabe a small smile. 

And suddenly— he’s sure.

“Stay here,” he says. “Help us build something.” 

There’s another beat before Gabe says anything at all, which is probably not the best thing for Tyson’s health, except then there’s a smile growing from the corners of his mouth. “I already accepted the job. I'm staying here.” 

It takes Tyson a second. 

“Oh,” he says. “That's— good.” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Gabe’s still smiling, and Tyson realizes he’s also got his stupidest grin on, and the whole thing’s kind of a mess, but whatever. 

They stand there, smiling like idiots for a second, and Tyson’s really not sure what to make of any of it, honestly, but thankfully, something horrifying catches his eye just over Gabe’s shoulder. 

Gabe notices. “Sam’s behind me, isn't he?” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Tyson confirms, as most of the color drains from Gabe’s face. “So just keep your eyes on me, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Don't panic, 'cause he can smell fear.“

“What do I—”

“Just keep talking to me.”

Gabe nods, starts walking backwards slowly. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“How are you?”

“Good, how are you?”

“How was the wedding—”

Sam’s still looking at them, and Tyson’s really not gonna fuck around with the most plausible vampire he’s ever met, so he just pushes at Gabe’s chest and tells him to run. 


	2. Pt. II (a): Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EJ is a helpful friend.

So, apparently, Tyson asked Gabe to dinner, and Gabe said no. 

EJ is very surprised when Tyson gives him and Nate this news.

“It’s weird,” Tyson says. “I thought he was into me, but then he did that, so.” He shrugs, like,  _ I guess he’s not,  _ which EJ’s fairly certain isn’t true. There’s gotta be something else going on there, if Gabe’s not into Tyson, and Nate’s face seems to agree. 

“Well, uh,” Nate says. “I’m sorry?” 

“I mean, it’s fine, just.” Tyson sits down in his chair, doesn’t finish that sentence, and tries not to look as disappointed as he clearly is. 

EJ hates this whole thing, for two reasons. Firstly, it’s making him feel genuine emotions, like sympathy and affection and sadness, and secondly… he doesn’t like seeing Tyson this bummed out. Tyson’s a happy guy, and the office feels wrong when he’s all mopey.

“Well, I mean,” EJ says, “Didn’t Paul from sewage ask you out recently? There’s an ego boost, right?” 

“I’m not going out with a dude who calls himself BizNasty,” Tyson says, crinkling his nose. 

“Not saying you have to go out with him,” EJ says. “Just— clearly you’ve got something going for you.” 

“EJ has a point,” Nate says, and EJ mentally high-fives himself. It’s a careful balance, splitting best friend duties with Nate. “Just because Gabe’s not into it, doesn’t mean you’re not still a catch.” 

“I guess,” Tyson says, and EJ knows that Tyson feeling bad about himself isn’t the point, but feeling good might be a nice distraction, so— 

“A bunch of the other nurses were talking about this new website, eLuv8.com,” he says. “You can check that out.” 

“Huh,” Tyson says, and the three of them gather around Tyson’s work computer as he types in the URL. 

Nate reads, “‘We know the path to true love can be rocky’…” 

“… ‘but we can help you find your match at any altitude,’” Tyson finishes. He turns to EJ. “Seriously?” 

“It’s a dating site with a Colorado twist,” EJ says, holding his hands up. “I guess this is their gimmick? I don’t know, I didn’t make the site.” 

“I like that they use Comic Sans.”

“Listen, I don’t know how good it is, I’m just saying that other people like it,” EJ says. “Good place to find eligible Colorado boys, apparently.” 

“We do have the best eligible bachelor population density out of both the perfectly rectangular states,” Tyson says, nodding a little. 

“Come on, Tys, we all know you’re gonna end up with a hometown boy,” Nate says, patting his back. “You love this place too much.” 

EJ secretly thinks there’s something to be said for Tyson’s chances of ending up with a Swedish guy, but he gets the feeling that Nate’s just being reassuring, so he keeps his mouth shut. 

……

So, they set up a profile.

Tyson’s pacing back and forth across his office, brow furrowed, as EJ looks on, expectant. 

“Average height male likes Dairy Queen and ice hockey,” he tries. 

EJ nods. “Charming and athletic man enjoys the sweeter things in life.” 

“Much better,” Tyson agrees.

“Hobbies?” EJ asks.

“Organizing my agenda,” Tyson says immediately. “Wait, that doesn't sound fun. Um… jamming on my planner.”

EJ doesn’t think that particular point is salvageable, so he just leaves that field blank for now.

 

“Favorite place?” EJ asks. 

“Upstairs, there’s this mural of wildflowers,” Tyson says. “I like to sit on a bench in front of it.”

“Really?” EJ says. “It could be anywhere in the world. Paris, Hawaii, the Grand Canyon?”

Tyson thinks about it for a second, then shakes his head. “Nope. Just the bench in front of the mural.”

“What about, like, an actual meadow where wildflowers are?” 

“Eww, EJ, I'm scared of bees. Mural,” Tyson insists.

EJ puts his hands up, raises his eyebrows. “Okay then.”

 

This part should be easy. 

“What do you think of dogs?”

Tyson perks up. “Love.”

“Cats?”

“Love.”

“Fish?” 

“Love.”

“Turtles?”

“No opinion.” 

EJ gives him a look, and Tyson gives him a look back, and then EJ looks at him harder, and Tyson looks back even harder than that, and then it’s a weird stalemate stare-off for a second. 

“They're condescending,” Tyson finally says, by way of explanation, and EJ is long past the point of expecting to understand the internal logic of Tyson’s brain, so ‘no opinion’ it is.

 

“Describe your ideal partner,” EJ says.

“They’re very intense and emotional,” Tyson says, which is a pretty bold start. “And they can sing. Someone who could go to Vegas and have a wild time, but could also settle down and watch Titanic with, y’know?”

EJ pauses his typing for a moment. “I think you just described Céline Dion.” 

“Mmmm,” Tyson says, nodding, like that’s exactly what he’d been going for.

EJ can’t fault him for that one, honestly. 

…… 

In the end, the algorithm claims to find him a ‘perfect’ match, which then reveals itself to be Nate. 

EJ gives Nate hell for shitting on the site when he’d already been a member, Tyson pretends the thought’s never crossed his mind and plays up being super grossed out, and all-in-all, it’s a pretty nice diversion. 

Later that day, EJ sees Tyson sitting in front of the wildflower mural he apparently loves so much, and he thinks about saying hi, but then he sees that Gabe is with him too. The two of them are laughing, and EJ gets the sense that they probably wouldn’t notice him, even if he walked right by. 

So, he leaves without saying anything.  


	3. Pt. II (b): The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyson Jost: shoe-shiner by day, rockstar 24/7

JT is wearing a dumb fucking hat when Tyson sees him. A fedora, maybe? With this huge fucking feather sticking out the top, and he’s also got this suit on that Tyson’s never seen him wear before, probably because it’s too big and weirdly long and probably from that time he was in a musical. Tyson’s never actually seen footage of that musical, because JT won’t let him, because he thinks Tyson will make fun of him forever—which he would, but still, it seems to go against the whole  _ what’s mine is yours  _ bit of marriage—but this suit is not meant to be worn by someone in this decade, is the point. 

Also, he’s holding a fancy cane, which is giving off major supervillain vibes. Tyson can’t tell if it’s working for him because he’s got a thing for evil he’s just discovering, or because most things JT does tend to work for him, but either way— it’s working.

Married life is going well, in case you were wondering. 

“Hello, strange person who I have never met before,” Tyson says. He’s got this roleplaying thing  _ down.  _ “Who are you?” 

“I'm Jim Snakehole,” JT says. “I'm a very rich man with a terrible, terrible secret. Who are you?” 

Tyson puts his sunglasses on. “Bert Macklin, FBI,” he says. “I was the best damn agent they had until I was framed for a crime I didn't commit.” He tears the sunglasses off his face. “Stealing the President's rubies. So now I work alone.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” JT says, holding his hand out for a very sexy, very firm handshake. 

Tyson leans in. “I got to admit, I thought your costume would maybe be a little bit sluttier,” he says. 

JT steps back, bangs his cane on the ground. “How dare you?” he says, then storms off. 

Tyson watches him go, grinning. “Nice,” he says to himself. 

…… 

See, Tyson’s here to help Dante with his weird Snake Juice thing, and Dante’s dragged Tyson’s entire workplace into it. This is because Dante doesn’t have a job with coworkers, and also, because Tyson’s coworkers like him enough that they’re willing to do his friend a favor, especially when Tyson promises them free booze. 

“This Snake Juice stuff is free, right?” Tyson says. 

Dante does a double take at that. “Wh— no, it’s not.” 

“Oh,” Tyson says. “I told them all it was free.” 

“So they just… haven’t been paying?” 

Tyson shrugs. “I guess? It’s free for me, though, right?” 

“Oh my god,” Dante says, which isn’t an answer, but also isn’t a no. He turns, calls, “Hey, Barzy, can you come over here?” 

Mat Barzal makes his way over, slings an arm over Dante’s shoulder. “Hey there, buddy,” he says, and then: “D to the A to the N-T-E, he’s the dopest lil’ homie in all Pawnee, Colorado.” 

It’s supposed to be a rap. Or, at least, Tyson’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be a rap. 

“Why didn’t you just end it on Pawnee?” Dante says. “Also, if Tyson’s group isn’t gonna pay for Snake Juice, how big’s our loss?”

“Oh, this shit is super cheap to make, don’t worry,” Mat says. “It’s just a bunch of cheap booze I stole from Stromer, then I mixed in some instant coffee and sugar so that it kind of tasted like Kahlua.” 

“So then what are people paying for?” 

“The brand,” Mat says, like that should be obvious. 

It makes about as much sense to Tyson as anything else does.

…… 

Gabe’s looking mega bummed when Tyson sees him later that night, and he thinks it’s got something to do with his whole thing with the other Tyson. 

Not that anyone tells Tyson this shit, but. He’s perceptive, sometimes, if it’s about something really really obvious.

“How’s it going with him?” Tyson asks.  

Gabe looks up at him and blinks, surprised. “Um, well, nothing’s going at all, really, because… I don’t know, I feel like I just did something wrong. He didn’t seem to want to talk to me.” 

Tyson’s pretty sure big Tyson is just distracted because of something going on with Nate, but he doesn’t know enough to say, so he just nods. “You should try role play. That’s what me and Comph do.”

Gabe looks him up and down. “That explains the outfit.” 

“Yeah, you gotta dream up some weird scenario, like you’re his boss and sex is forbidden because he works for you.” 

“That is our actual situation,” Gabe says, grimacing a little. 

Tyson’s pretty sure that it’s not, because Gabe’s not trying to have a skeevy affair, or something. He’s just got a crush. Crushes are chill.  

“And he’s addicted to spanking,” Tyson suggests, because that doesn’t really seem like the type of thing Tyson Sr. would be into, but Gabe chokes on his Snake Juice a bit, so maybe he thinks he could be. Tyson would follow up, but he thinks he maybe shouldn’t. 

“Okay, thanks, we got it. We’re good,” Gabe says, looking down at his feet, and Tyson can tell when he’s not wanted, so he wanders off to look for his husband’s sexy evil alter ego, Jimothy Timothy Snakehole, because he’s totally committed a fake crime, and Tyson bought fuzzy handcuffs a few weeks ago, and he thinks that they could tie in nicely to this whole roleplay thing when they get home. 

Man, marriage is the _best_.

……

Because of the whole Gabe thing, something occurs to Tyson, so naturally, he finds Mikko to bug him about it, finds him talking to EJ over by the bar. 

“Hey,” Tyson says to Mikko, interrupting. “I won’t get fired for being married to JT, right? Because if I’m gonna be fired, you should’ve told me at the wedding.” 

“What?” Mikko says, furrowing his brow. 

“Landy told me he’s not allowed to date coworkers,” Tyson says. “And I work in City Hall, so—”

“Oh, no, that’s different,” Mikko says. 

“Wait, what?” EJ says. “Is Landy trying to date a coworker?” 

“I mean, he asked, but— he can’t,” Mikko says. “He’s in charge of every department. It’s too risky.” 

“You really think  _ Gabe _ would do that?” EJ says. 

“Of course not,” Mikko says. “But it’s a rule for a reason, right? We need to make sure no one’s doing anything unethical. Gabe understood that.” 

“So Comph and I can date—” 

“Because he’s not your boss,” Mikko confirms. “But you couldn’t date Gabe.” 

Tyson furrows his brow. “Why would I want to date Gabe? I’m married, remember?” 

“That was just an example,” Mikko says quickly. “I mean, no one can date Gabe. Or me, for that matter.” 

“Because you’re not looking for a relationship, or—” 

“No, Josty, he’s just saying that no one can date their boss, because that might lead to favoritism, or people taking advantage, or… other shit,” EJ says. “You work in the hallway, Comph works in Parks, so it’s technically a different workplace.” 

“Oh,” Tyson says, nodding. “That makes sense.” 

“It does?” Mikko says, a little incredulous, but EJ just pats Tyson’s back. 

“Glad I could help,” EJ says. “I’ve gotta go talk to the other Tyson about something, so I’m gonna go.” 

“See you,” Tyson says. 

He should probably find JT again. Sammy’s here tonight, and Tyson wants to see his weird vibe go up against one of Barzy’s weird business ideas. Either the Snakehole will explode, or they’ll form a pretty sick startup, and Tyson and JT will find a way to invest in it so they’ll finally have enough money to move out of Kerfy’s place.

Worst case scenario, it’ll be fun to watch.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this the best thing i've ever written, or the worst? i genuinely cannot tell.


	4. Pt. III: Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sending you two on a trip,” Mikko says.

Tyson is simply trying to enjoy a salad with EJ when Gabe Landeskog walks in and ruins everything with his perfect fucking face. 

Seriously. As soon as Gabe enters the courtyard, Tyson forgets everything he’s ever learned, such as what he and EJ were talking about a second ago, or where they are, or what the green thing is on the end of his fork. Once upon a time, he might have known it as lettuce; right now, it’s Not Gabe. Because there are two things in the world: Gabe Landeskog, and the rest of it, and the rest of it doesn’t matter when Gabe Landeskog is here. 

Which is so fucking unfair, really. Gabe’s face has no business causing this much of a disruption in Tyson’s life. Maybe Tyson should make him wear a bag over it just in case he has to encounter it in a professional setting ever again— that might be the only way to remedy this, actually. 

“Hey, Tys,” Gabe says, flashing Tyson a smile that makes him feel hot all over. How is he still legally allowed to smile in public, honestly? Tyson works in government, maybe he should try and get something done about this. Public decency laws are still a thing. He’s pretty sure.

“Hey,” Tyson manages. 

“Thank you for that year-over-year maintenance cost analysis,” Gabe says. “That was really helpful.”

“You're so welcome,” Tyson says. “I was thinking about you when I wrote it.” Some part of his brain starts running enough to realize what he’s just said, and he quickly adds, “Cause I was, um—”

“Cause I told you I wanted to read it?” Gabe is  _ still  _ smiling. Someone ought to call the police. 

“Yeah,” Tyson says.

“That's a good reason,” Gabe says, and his expression shifts into something warm, welcoming, a little dreamy, and Tyson gets lost in it for a second, but then Gabe clears his throat and says, “Anyway, Mikko wants to see us in his office.”

“I guess we should head over there,” Tyson says, giving him a small smile, which earns him one in return.

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Alright, cool.”

“Great.”

“See you there,” Gabe says, but he doesn’t actually go, and, like— Tyson doesn’t  _ want  _ him to go, but he probably should.

“I'll see you there, Gabriel— Gabe,” Tyson says, wincing a little. 

“Alright, Tysbriel,” Gabe says, because he’s a perfect human and takes Tyson’s stupid jokes and makes them actually cute. “Tys.” 

As Gabe’s about to walk off, Tyson hears a voice to his right—EJ, who is another person in the world, because, contrary to what Tyson’s brain suggests, other people  _ do  _ exist—say, “Hi, Landy.” 

Gabe turns around, a little startled. “Oh, hey, EJ,” he says, like he also hadn’t noticed his presence until this exact moment. 

As Gabe leaves, Tyson thinks that maybe EJ is just being particularly lowkey today, except then he looks at the very amused and vaguely terrifying knowing expression on EJ’s face and remembers that EJ is a 90-foot-tall toothless giant and usually hard to not notice, and that this is probably more about his Gabe Landeskog problem than anything else. 

Tyson blinks, willing himself to remember where he is. He should probably ask EJ if blacking out from hotness is a thing. He’s a medical professional. He’ll know. 

“Wow,” EJ says. “That is… the most sexual tension I have ever seen in a conversation about documents.” 

Tyson stabs a few more pieces of lettuce with his fork. He’s not sure why he’s trying to eat a salad. Salad is fucking gross. “It can’t happen, we could both get fired.” 

It’s a mantra, at this point; EJ knows plenty about the Gabe thing, and Tyson’s discussed it with him from every possible angle. Sure, it’s bad right now, but— it’s a crush. Tyson’s had plenty of crushes before. This will pass, like every crush eventually does, and Tyson will go back to being his usual hyper-semi-functional self. Worst case scenario, he can pay someone to shave Gabe’s head. Maybe he could even get reimbursed for it, if he argues that Gabe’s hair is a threat to public safety. There’s no way it hasn’t stopped traffic before. He could probably build a really good case, pull some strings, get Nate onboard— 

“It’s a dumb rule,” EJ says, cutting off his train of thought. 

“I know!”

“But,” EJ continues, “if you have to follow it, I would suggest avoiding one-on-one, tension-y situations with him.” 

And there’s the wisdom that Tyson needs from his second-tallest friend.  

“You’re right,” he says, nodding, mentally preparing himself to take a bite of salad. He can do it. He can do this. “Good plan.” 

…… 

“I’m sending you two on a trip,” Mikko says, which… throws a wrench in Tyson’s plans, to say the least. 

…… 

Look, Tyson gets it, okay? He’s good at his job, and Gabe is good at his job, and Mikko needs something done, so he’s sending them to both do it together. 

The issue is: Tyson does not trust himself to be alone with Gabe Landeskog.

“I need, like, a sweat suit or something,” he tells EJ, as he roots through Nate’s clothing, looking for something ugly to borrow. “I need to send out a signal that nothing is gonna happen.”

“This is insane, dude. It's obvious you're dying to be together, right? And now you're going on a road trip? I mean, you guys could literally _get a room_.” 

“Yeah, and I could literally get  _ a-fired _ ,” Tyson shoots back, because he had, in fact, considered the possibility of getting a room with Gabe, and that’s a dangerous path to go down.

EJ sighs, like he’s got any right to be exhausted by this—or, maybe he does, but not nearly as much as Tyson—and says, “All right, I will help you anti-seduce him. Just tell me what else you need.”

“I need to think of unsexy, boring conversation topics we can talk about in the car,” Tyson says, giving up on the wardrobe issue for the time being. He pulls out his phone. “I have a few ideas. We could,” he looks down at the note where he’s been collecting them, “…discuss The New Yorker article. ‘The History of the Ladder.’”

“Okay.”

“We could talk about different dorms at Johns Hopkins University,” Tyson reads. “I could read from my Sonicare booklet—”

“Oh, I have a good idea!” EJ says, cutting him off.

“What?”

“Why don't you ask him about his penis?” 

Tyson meets EJ’s toothless grin with an unamused look. He really should’ve chosen a different best friend to lean on for this particular dilemma; EJ’s got a secret romantic streak that’s not doing much to help Tyson’s cause.

…… 

“Yeah, so, basically every dorm allows bed lofting, but the students have really taken to it at Wolman and McCoy,” Tyson says, finishing up the long monologue on undergraduate housing that he’d decided to use to kick off the car ride. 

“Did you go to Johns Hopkins?” Gabe asks.

“No.”

There’s a beat where Gabe is clearly waiting for Tyson to offer more explanation, but when he realizes it’s not coming, he says, “Do you wanna play some music?” 

“Sure!” Tyson says cheerfully. “EJ and I burned an awesome CD for the trip.” 

The CD in question comprises a few of the most offputting audio tracks ever recorded, including: Jimmy Carter's ‘Crisis of Confidence’ speech,  _ Learning to Speak Mandarin _ , 16 minutes of Old Timey Car Horn, and something called  _ Banjo Boogie Bonanza _ , which is what starts blaring from the speakers as soon as Tyson hits play.

“It's an amazing instrument, the banjo,” Tyson says after a few minutes, because Gabe looks confused, and Tyson hates awkward silences. Or— awkward banjo-filled conversational gaps, technically, but, whatever, same diff.

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “I didn't realize it could be this loud.”

Tyson is fully prepared to keep up a conversation about the banjo—if there’s anything in life he’s destined to do, it’s pull random facts about banjos out of his ass—but the track switches before he gets a chance.  

“What is this?” Gabe asks.

“Whale sounds.”

“Okay.”

Tyson’s starting to feel a little bad. “You can change it if you want.”

“Yeah?” Gabe says, and then he leans forward, presses ‘next’, and— 

“What the hell?” Tyson says, because ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ does  _ not  _ belong in a car with him and a sexy forbidden Swede. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” Gabe says, when Tyson goes to change it. “This is such a great song.”

And it is, because ABBA is perfect, but even if it wasn’t, Gabe’s face is all lit-up and happy, and Tyson’s not capable of making that go away. He feels a little bit like a monster for keeping it at bay for as long as he has. 

So Tyson’s just gonna have to deal with this, apparently, even if that means trying to act normal as Gabe’s beautiful mouth tells him to not go wasting his emotion and not go sharing his devotion, and all sorts of things that Tyson very much wishes he could do, but can’t. 

Tyson’s not sure who’s to blame for how much this fucking sucks, so he opts to just hate himself for catching feelings in the first place and focus on preparing for the meeting.

“Did you see this?” Tyson says, a few. “According to their rules, we may not have enough hotel rooms within city limits.”

Gabe grimaces. “I know. It's a silly rule. But maybe they'll be reasonable and not care.”

“Yeah, maybe we could just point out to them there are tons of hotel rooms just outside city limits.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tyson looks up from the binder he’s been meticulously studying to find that Gabe Landeskog is, quite literally, a sight for sore eyes. “Have you been to the Granville Hotel and Spa?”

“I don’t think I have,” Gabe says. 

“They have the softest towels,” Tyson says, a little wistful, and Gabe smiles at him. 

“Oh, I gotta tell you. I love a nice towel in my life.”

“Me too!”

“Right!” Gabe says. “I mean, it's the simplest luxury, but it makes all the difference.”

“Their bath mats are amazing,” Tyson says. “It's like stepping on a lamb.”

Gabe looks over at him and laughs a little, but does a double take. “Oh, hold on,” he says, reaching out over the gear shift, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Hey, come here. You've got an eyelash on your face.”

Tyson obediently leans in, lets Gabe’s finger brush the top of his cheek. His hands feel a little hot, and Tyson’s skin tingles a little bit from the touch; it’s a nice feeling, honestly. 

“I got it,” Gabe says, holding the errant eyelash up triumphantly. “Make a wish.”

There’s a glimmer in his eye as he says it, a small smile on his face, and Tyson thinks, for a second, about wishing that Gabe would pull the car over right now so Tyson can kiss him senseless. He even thinks about wishing for it  _ out loud,  _ which seems risky, but at the same time, Gabe’s mouth looks absolutely amazing, and Tyson’s only human, and—

“ _ Learning to speak Mandarin. Unit three, _ ” says a woman’s voice over the car speakers, and Tyson abruptly remembers where he is and what he is and isn’t supposed to be doing right now. This definitely falls into the ‘isn’t’ category, by every definition, probably. 

“Get away from me,” Tyson says, shoving Gabe’s hand back to his side of the car. 

Gabe, understandably, looks a little startled. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “I'm— sorry.”

“Sorry,” Tyson says awkwardly. “I'm… allergic. To fingers.” 

Gabe just nods at that, his eyes fixed on the road, his face carefully blank. It’s amazing how his handsomeness manages to shine through even at the most awkward moments. 

“Maybe we should just not talk to each other for the rest of the trip, and I'm just gonna concentrate on the presentation,” Tyson says, and it’s what he wants—what he’s been trying for—but it still feels  _ bad.  _ He likes talking to Gabe. It’s sort of his whole problem. 

“Okay,” Gabe says, and he sounds disappointed, which isn’t unexpected, and also unsurprised, which is. 

Maybe, somehow, they’re both trying to play the same game. 

Tyson’s got a feeling they’re gonna end up losing, but he can’t think about that right now. 

…… 

“And, so, as you can see,” Tyson says with a flourish, which seems to amuse the committee, “Pawnee has 12 beautiful baseball diamonds, and our seats are at a much more favorable incline due to the absurd height of our average citizen.” This might be the only time Tyson has ever been grateful for how absurdly tall all his friends are, honestly. He mentally thanks EJ and Z for their contributions to this cause.

One of the committee members nods. “I have to bring up what happened the last time Pawnee hosted this tournament.”

“No, you don't,” Tyson says quickly. 

His mind flashes back to the broadcast from years ago, which was probably one of the first big stories he ever saw Moser cover.  _ Good evening. We begin with our first story tonight. They're cute, they're cuddly, but now they're wreaking havoc at the State Little League Championship. Pawnee's raccoon infestation. Have these little bandits stolen our sense of safety?  _

“The raccoon problem is under control,” Tyson says. “They have their part of the town, and we have ours.”

The committee seems to accept that, takes a second to note it. 

“Boulder is larger. Aurora is more central,” one woman says. “What's the advantage of doing it in Pawnee?”

And Tyson’s about to answer her question—his usual rant about how Pawnee is the greatest, with some actual facts about their little league program sprinkled it—but before he can, Gabe cuts in.

“The advantage is that it's a wonderful city,” he says. It startles Tyson, a little, because he sounds serious, and earnest as hell. “I mean, look, I've been to 40-some-odd towns in Colorado, and Pawnee is special,” he continues. “The people are passionate and kind. They love their city. They take pride in their work. It's— really, it’s a very, very special place.”

The committee just nods again, like they have been all afternoon, which Tyson doesn’t really think is fair, because that’s— what Gabe just said was  _ breathtaking,  _ something stolen right from the depths of Tyson’s heart. He knows he gets sort of excessive when it comes to this town, but the fact is, it means a whole fucking lot to him, and Gabe— he listened, when Tyson told him it was the best. 

Or, actually, no, Gabe didn’t just listen, because Tyson looks at his face and sees something fierce and genuine, and that’s when he realizes— Gabe loves Tyson’s city. He loves it the way it deserves to be loved. 

Tyson’s head is spinning. He can’t speak, can barely even think of words, and that almost never, ever happens. Thankfully, the presentation is over, so he doesn’t have to say anything more, but he’s got this strange, sinking feeling that the hardest part of this trip is yet to come.  

…… 

They get the tournament. 

“Well,” Gabe says at the reception afterwards, “Mikko says ‘congratulations!’ and that ‘together we're unstoppable.’”

“Oh,  _ fuck _ yeah,” Tyson says, raising his glass. “Cheers to that, man. You did it.” 

“No, you did it,” Gabe says, as he obediently clinks their drinks together. 

Tyson shakes his head. “No, normally I do it. This time, you did it.”

“Well, all right,” Gabe says, looking at his feet. 

Tyson nudges him. “You should take the praise,” he says, because Gabe should, except then Gabe smiles at him, and Tyson promptly remembers how dangerous that feels. 

It doesn’t stop him from smiling back, though. 

“Can I get a shot of you guys?” a voice says, breaking the moment, and when Tyson looks away from Gabe’s face, he sees a man poised to take their picture. 

“Yeah,” Gabe says. 

Tyson nods. “Sure.” 

They move to stand next to each other, and Tyson tries not to be too disappointed when Gabe doesn’t put his arm around him. 

“Hey, when this thing's over, do you wanna grab some dinner?” Gabe asks, leaning over to say it low in Tyson’s ear as the photographer snaps a few pictures. “Mikko recommended a place.”

“Sure,” Tyson says, because he’s either an idiot, or Gabe is hypnotizing him with his sexy voice. 

Gabe just grins. “Yeah?” 

Tyson nods, still not thoroughly convinced he’s not being hypnotized, but he figures that it’s 2019, he can break himself out of a trance if he wants. Society’s ready for that.

He forces himself to tear his eyes away from Gabe. “Hey, we were thinking about going to dinner, photographer,” he says. “You want in? You wanna grab some grub?” 

“Uh, no, thanks,” the photographer says. 

“They have great burgers,” Tyson says, a little desperate, because he can feel his resolve weakening by the second. If he has to spend an extended amount of time alone with Gabe, the world might  _ actually  _ explode. 

“Well, you don't even know where we're going yet,” Gabe says. 

“I'm sure they have great burgers there,” Tyson says, waving him off. “Come on, photographer. Last chance.” 

The photographer just wanders off, which makes sense, but doesn’t help with the whole world-exploding problem. 

“Okay,” Tyson says. “Well, then, it's just— us then.” He nods. “Yeah, sure, okay, I tried.” 

Gabe doesn’t respond, probably because he can’t tell if Tyson’s talking to him or to himself, and honestly, Tyson doesn’t have a goddamn clue either. 

…… 

But of course—of fucking  _ course— _ the restaurant is wonderful and has warm bread and homemade bolognese and a great wine list. Of course it’s a perfect fucking restaurant, and of course Gabe orders something he knows Tyson would like and offers him a bite, and of course he takes a bite of Tyson’s food that’s the perfect size—not too small, not too big, just fucking right—and of course he has all the correct opinions about Italian food. It’s horrible, really. Tyson’s having a great meal with one of his favorite people, and he’s not even supposed to be enjoying it. 

But, really, fuck that. The wine is good, the food is delicious, and Gabe’s laughing the entire time. Tyson’s hands are tied on this one, really; he has no choice but to have a good time. It’s beyond his control, at this point. 

“You were really great in that presentation today,” Tyson says. He can blame it on the third glass of wine, probably.  

Gabe looks down at his lap, smiling. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“I liked the stuff you said about Pawnee,” Tyson says, knocking their knees together. “That was really nice to hear.” It’s both an understatement and the opposite of the truth, but Gabe doesn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah, well— you know,” Gabe says. “Pawnee is… a really special town. I love living there.” He pauses, looks up at Tyson, and smiles. 

Tyson should maybe say something, but his head is buzzing, and Gabe doesn’t quite look like he’s done talking yet, so he just grins back, watches as Gabe takes a sip of water before continuing. 

“And— and I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to— to hang out, with the town, and talk to the town about stuff,” Gabe says, and Tyson feels his face turn an embarrassing shade of red all the way to his ears, but he can’t quite manage to wipe the smile off his face. “And the town has really nice curly hair, too, and has a lot of great brunch recommendations, and goes to Dairy Queen a lot, for a town, which— I like.”

Tyson can’t look right at Gabe’s face anymore, for the same reason most people can’t stare right at the sun, but he keeps glancing at him sideways, hoping it will be less painful every time. No dice, apparently. 

“Oh, god,” Tyson says. 

“I'm sorry,” Gabe says. He leans in, puts a hand on Tyson’s. “Look, I know we could get in trouble, but— I can't take this anymore. I feel like we have to at least talk about it.” He gulps. “I mean— it's not just me, right?” 

Tyson forces himself to look at Gabe’s face, and there’s just— so  _ much,  _ determination and fondness and the beginnings of something Tyson’s not even ready to touch, and above all, hope and fear in equal measure.

“No, it's not just you,” Tyson says, and he looks away so he doesn’t have to see Gabe’s face react to that. He can’t handle that amount of joy, right now. “Oh, God.”

“What? Are you all right?” Gabe asks. 

Tyson squeezes his eyes shut for a second before opening them. “Perfect,” he says. “I— I'm gonna go see a man about some porcelain, you know what I mean?” He stands up, then clarifies, “I'm not buying cocaine, I'm going to the bathroom. The whiz palace, as I like to call it. And I'm not calling EJ, so.” 

He continues to not look at Gabe as he walks away, because Tyson needs to press the fucking pause button on this whole thing. This is— this is  _ bad. _ This should be bad. Gabe literally said that this could get them fired, like, a minute ago, and Tyson needs to remember all the reasons this is bad before he goes and continues down this very slippery slope.  

Naturally, he’s hitting dial before the bathroom door is even closed behind him. 

“EJ, we have a serious code Gabe,” Tyson says, when EJ picks up. 

“Well, it's not really code if you say his name,” EJ says. 

Tyson ignores that. “He told me that he liked me, and I'm gonna go make out with him right now. On his face.”

“Oh, sweet!” EJ says. 

“No! No,” Tyson says. “Read me the script.”

EJ makes disgruntled noise on the other end. “Seriously?” 

“Yes!” Tyson says, a little shrill.  

“All right,” EJ says, and Tyson hears paper rustling, and then: “‘Tyson, it's Tyson Barrie from the Parks Department speaking to you through Erik Johnson, a wonderful toothless friend.’ Thank you,” EJ says. “‘Do not do anything with Gabe. Be responsible, no matter how great his hair is.’” He clears his throat, and then, in a slightly louder deadpan, “‘Your job is on the line!’” 

“Shut up, EJ!” Tyson says on instinct.

“You wrote that,” EJ protests. 

“No, you— then, Tyson, you don't know what you're talking about,” Tyson says. “I care about him very much, and I've had two and a half glasses of red wine, and what that means is I'm gonna go make out with him right now, and it's gonna be awesome.”

“Yes, good,” EJ says, sounding relieved. 

“No, you're supposed to talk me out of this,” Tyson says. 

“No. Don't. Stop,” EJ says, his voice flat. 

Tyson gulps. “Shut up, EJ, I'm doing it anyway,” he says. 

He hangs up before EJ can respond to that, but he can picture the strange, long-armed fist pump anyway. 

As he makes his way back to the table, he thinks about the fact that he’s actually gonna do this, and he finds that he’s not even scared, just— excited. He’s wanted this for so long, and it’s finally going to  _ happen.  _ They’re gonna talk about this thing between them, and they’re probably gonna kiss over it, and Tyson knows that there are consequences, but he just— he likes Gabe. He likes him so, so much, and he’s so excited to finally get to do something about that. 

And then he sees Gabe sitting at the table, right where he’d left him, and Tyson thinks,  _ he’s real, this is real, this is happening, this is awesome—  _

He’s so excited he almost doesn’t notice that Gabe’s not alone at the table anymore. 

Under normal circumstances, Tyson loves Mikko. He’s a funky little Finnish dude who’s too competent for his own good and never stops smiling, and he thinks Tyson is  _ hilarious.  _ It’s just that Mikko is… also his boss, and also sort of the reason that Gabe and Tyson could get in trouble. 

Also, Mikko is here. It’s a dose of reality that Tyson would love to ignore, but that’s obviously not an option right now. 

“Tyson!” Mikko says, waving him over. He apparently doesn’t notice Gabe’s discomfort, or the crestfallen look on Tyson’s face. Tyson envies his innocence. “When Gabe told me that you guys got the tournament, I had to come up here and celebrate with you. There is literally nothing in this world that you cannot do,” he says, oblivious to the dreams he’s crushing. “So, what's the plan now? Should we take a long walk? Ice cream?”

“I'll probably—” Tyson glances at Gabe.  

“Shouldn't we just go back to Pawnee?” Gabe suggests. 

Tyson nods. “Yeah.”

“Nonsense,” Mikko says. “Don’t drive all the way back home. I've got a perfectly good condo right here in the city.”

“Oh, we couldn't put you out like that,” Gabe starts, but Mikko cuts him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mikko says, waving him off with a laugh. “You’re fine to stay with me. Tyson, you can take the guest room, and Gabe, man— you’ve gotta sleep on my couch. It is literally the comfiest couch you've ever been on.” 

……

And so that’s how Tyson ends up agreeing to spend the night at his boss’s boss’s condo, trying not to think any thoughts that start with ‘what if.’ 

It is a nice place, actually. Tyson would be thankful for the invitation under different circumstances, because the drive back to Pawnee seems hellish and Tyson’s a little dead on his feet from this rollercoaster of a day, but right now, this just seems to be dragging out the nightmare of knowing he and Gabe will never be anything and rubbing it in his face. 

Mikko hadn’t been lying about the couch, though. It’s comfy as fuck. Tyson’s a little jealous that Gabe gets to sleep on it. 

He’s also a little jealous that the couch gets to hold Gabe as he sleeps. 

It’s been a confusing day. 

“This is weird,” Gabe says, and Tyson cracks a smile. 

“We're on Mikko's couch,” he agrees.

“Yep, we are,” Gabe says. “And I'm wearing his clothes.”

“Well—” Tyson starts, but then Mikko walks in, cutting him off.   

“Alright,” Mikko says. “I’m gonna brush my teeth then head to bed. Night, guys.” 

He goes into the bathroom, and Tyson thinks about how unfortunate it is that Mikko is such a genuinely nice guy, because Tyson kinda hates him right now. 

“I think I might go to bed, too, actually,” Tyson says. 

“Oh, yeah? Okay,” Gabe says. “Well, look— Good job, again, today. It was—” 

“You, too,” Tyson says. 

Gabe smiles. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Tyson says, and he’s about to say more, except then Mikko emerges from the bathroom again, and, for what feels like the millionth time tonight, Tyson finds himself having to jump back from Gabe and hope he lands in reality. 

“I'm gonna go to bed,” Tyson repeats, and this time, he actually gets up off the couch. 

“Good night,” Gabe says. 

Tyson almost turns around to give him one last look, but then Mikko also says “Good night,” and suddenly, Tyson wants nothing more than for this whole thing to be over. 

…… 

In retrospect, it's good that Mikko showed up. 

Tyson— he hadn’t been thinking clearly yesterday. He loves his job, and Gabe loves his job, and it just— it wouldn’t have been worth the risk.

Tyson tells himself this on a loop as he makes his way through City Hall to drop off the receipts for Mikko, which he’s hoping will put the whole thing behind them. A symbolic end to this chapter of the Gabe-and-Tyson story. It’s probably not that good a story, really. Two people almost consider dating each other, but they can’t, so they don’t. That’s— it’s barely anything. As much as it sucks now, it’ll probably barely be a memory, soon enough. 

“Oh, hey,” a familiar voice says, and when Tyson looks up, he sees Gabe resting against the doorframe. Tyson’s only a little surprised to see him here, honestly— it’s late enough that most people have left, but the building’s still open, and they both have some work to catch up on. 

That’s all.  

“Hey,” Tyson says, trying his hardest to sound normal. He’s pretty impressed that he mostly manages it. “Mikko just wanted me to drop off these receipts.”

“Oh, well, he's not here. He took off,” Gabe says. 

“Oh,” Tyson says. “Okay.” He holds out the receipts for Gabe to take, because he and Mikko share an office, and Gabe looks at them for a second before taking them out of Tyson’s hand. 

And then, before Tyson knows what’s happening, Gabe’s— he’s stepping towards him, putting a hand in his hair, and pulling him in like he’s a goddamn Disney prince. It’s some full-on fairytale bullshit, honestly, which is absolutely unfair. No one should be able to sweep someone off their feet at 7:30 on a Thursday in the depths of City Hall, and yet— 

Gabe fucking Landeskog, ladies and gentlemen. Beautiful, funny, perfect, and all-in-all, the bane of Tyson’s existence.

He actually has the audacity to pull back, too, and he looks at Tyson all hesitant afterwards, like he didn’t just turn Tyson’s world on its fucking head, like he wants to make sure that was okay. 

So Tyson leans in and kisses him back, naturally. It’s a kiss that he hopes says,  _ your mouth is amazing and should always be on my mouth, thanks,  _ and  _ I’ve been building this up in my head for so long that it should be physically impossible that the real thing is even better, which means you broke the laws of physics,  _ and  _ how dare you ask if that was okay when it was actually amazing and perfect and the worst and best thing to ever happen to me, just like the rest of you.  _

It’s also just a good kiss, if he does say so himself. 

At least, Gabe seems to like it. 

At some point, while they’re kissing, Tyson comes back down to Earth, a little bit. He still works for Parks and Rec, and Gabe is still technically his boss, and they could still get in a lot of trouble for this, but just— 

Tyson doesn’t fucking care anymore. 

“Uh oh,” he says, then goes right back to kissing Gabe, because this— it feels inevitable, now that it’s happening, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still dangerous. Maybe that’s a little exciting right now, but Tyson’s got a feeling that will wear off quickly, and underneath, there’s still a very real chance of this fucking up their jobs, their  _ lives.  _

Those consequences aren’t going away any time soon. Tyson knows this. 

But. They’re their consequences to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Epilogue:**
> 
> “So, Tyson,” Nate says, “how long have you been sleeping with Gabe?”
> 
> “What?” Tyson says, sputtering. “That’s disgusting. And wrong. I don’t even get— why would— I’ve never had sex with anyone, anywhere. It’s none of your— _you_ have— the nerve, the _audacity._ Gabe is my boss, technically. And he is terrible, face-wise. And how— how do I know, frankly, that you’re not sleeping with him? Maybe you are. Maybe you’re trying to throw me off, hmm? Check and mate.”
> 
> Nate just stares back at him, and Tyson tries to deflect again. “This is an outrage. Who do I—”
> 
> Of course, Gabe chooses that moment to come in and snake his arms around Tyson’s waist, which is, quite possibly, the worst timing he’s ever had.
> 
> “Hey,” Gabe says, and then he notices Nate, and quickly removes his hands from Tyson’s waist. “Hey, Nate Dawg. Listen, you’re just who I was looking for. Are you… did you forget the, uh— did you, can I— can I get that thing? Can we just, uh… did you bring it?”
> 
> Nate just keeps on fucking staring.
> 
> “This isn’t convincing,” Gabe says.
> 
> Tyson sighs. “How did you find out?”
> 
> “We’ve worked together for a while now. I’d like to think I know you pretty well. Plus, Landy butt-dialed me last night.”
> 
> Tyson and Gabe exchange a confused look, but Nate holds up his phone and starts to play a voicemail. Tyson hears his own voice say, “OK, OK, and this is how Björn Ulvaeus would kiss.”
> 
> “Whoa, Björn likes the tongue,” Gabe’s voice replies in the message. “Show me Cher again.”
> 
> “Okay, lay down,” Tyson’s voice says, and Nate has the decency to stop the message then.
> 
> Gabe is definitely too embarrassed to say anything, but Tyson manages, “Please tell me you hung up before we got to Céline Dion.”
> 
> “Unfortunately not.”

**Author's Note:**

> cw for a boss/employee relationship, which is sort of the premise of the show. 
> 
> THINGS THAT DID NOT MAKE IT INTO THE FIC:  
> -first off, this picture:  
>   
> -matt duchene is mark brendanawicz (aka mark brendanaquits)  
> -ej is the #1 lil sebastian stan  
> -dj roomba is kerfy's innovation  
> -mark barberio is donna because there is nothing i love more than the image of him doing 'treat yo self' (with sven andrighetto, who deserves the world i've decided)  
> -the extended edition of the avs ensemble: mose is perd hapley, lg is joan callamezzo, keefer is that guy named kyle who's always at the shoeshine stand, whoever runs the avs tumblr is annabel porter (because the avs tumblr is the ultimate lifestyle blog)  
> -josty and natemack teaming up for a cook-off against jt and mikko (which is the b-plot in 'soulmates')  
> -nate is roughly ron swanson, but he and ej sort of both play the role of ann perkins here. this is because ann perkins is a beautiful, talented, brilliant, powerful musk-ox, and so we need two whole best friends to even come close to being on her level. also, please think of every single compliment leslie gives ann. now think of tyson barrie saying those to natemack. yeah. YEAH.  
> -couldn't decide between gravy and sammy g for orin, but i went with sammy g. this is partially because i had the "know ya boo" scene in there at first, and gravy was the jerry to barbs' donna (with kerfy taking over the role of tom haverford, temporarily, even tough tom eventually became dante so mat barzal could be jean-ralphio) but then i couldn't decide how true to 'the match game' i wanted it to be.  
> -yes, the rumors are true: nathan mackinnon is duke silver. 
> 
> also i almost based this fic off the 'flu season' episode. tyson is ann, gabe is chris, tyson jost is leslie, jt compher is ben, ej is andy, sammy g is april.  
> -tyson: there was one time i thought he farted... but it was me  
> -a delirious and feverish gabe landeskog looking in a mirror and very seriously saying "stop. pooping."  
> -tyson jost as leslie and jt compher as ben  
> -also, sammy g being very jealous of tbear because he has a huge crush on ej!!! and then getting the flu and being a nightmare!!!
> 
> so i just had to share that idea with the world because it's Important to me


End file.
